


spider in the web

by cloudfree



Category: Bandersnatch - Fandom, Black Mirror
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fever Dreams, Fluff, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Infidelity, LSD, Loss of Control, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Meta, Mindfuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 20:30:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17290886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudfree/pseuds/cloudfree
Summary: The one where Stefan asks for help and gets much more than what he bargained for.





	spider in the web

**Author's Note:**

> Stefan Butler is the shy gay kid who's crushing on his idol and everyone knows it. 
> 
> I wanted to rewrite the scene where they both hit LSD so that something happens between them, except it's not meant to be healthy because neither of them are. I hope it was successful in that regard - I wrote this in about two hours. Some of the details are obviously not faithful to canon; dialogue isn't word for word, some of it's been taken out, etc etc.
> 
> I'm going to come back and make edits when I get the inspiration to. For now I'm just going to leave this here. Enjoy :)

 

He looks at himself in the mirror and tries not to feel pathetic at the way his body has eaten itself away to bone, dark circles under his eyes mirroring the shadows lurking just underneath his skin.

A shallow, empty puppet, that’s all he is.

A marionette, whose strings are held by unseen forces that twist and corrode him from the inside out. Something big - _something that’s not him_ \- makes his hands move when he doesn’t want them to, wrings words out of his mouth that aren’t fully his. Life is a sordid, blurry haze.

He tries to find redemption in the game, coding away for long, long hours until his fingers hurt and the shape of the keyboard is burned into his vision. The dull ache of his empty stomach is ignored, joints locking up and knotting from disuse.

It’s just cause he’s stressed, nothing to worry about. Once he finishes, he’ll be okay. Right as rain in no time.

But Dad doesn’t see that. Stupid, idiot Dad, who probably wants to make things right, but can’t; doesn’t he see that he’s only going to make everything worse, just like he did with mum and that stupid rabbit and -

“I’m fine, Dad, just _fuck off!”_ He can’t remember wanting to say, but of course it comes out anyway.  _Bandersnatch_ chitters and glitches out on the screen, and Stefan bites back tears.

He watches his father’s face turn to stone. “Get your coat.”

 

~~

 

Haynes’ clinic looms in front of them like a large, hulking beast. Visions of gnarled, lionheaded demons flicker behind his closed eyelids. He doesn’t want to do this.

They get out of the car. “Stefan.” Dad says. He’s trying to be kind.

He can’t be here right now, he _can’t_ . If he has to stand here for another _second,_ and look into that blithering idiot’s pained expression for one more _fucking moment,_ he’ll -

Someone walks by him, just then. The glare of wiry coke-bottle glasses and spiky blond hair flashes in Stefan’s peripherals, beckoning him along almost hypnotically. A strange pit forms in his stomach. 

He decides to follow. Dad shouts for him to come back, but he ignores it. He’ll deal with it all later.

Colin seems to have been expecting him, as he slows down when Stefan attempts to meet his stride. Aims an inquisitive glance at him, but otherwise says nothing. The almost predatory look makes Stefan shudder involuntarily.

“Colin,” he says.

“Hi.” The older boy acknowledges.

Saying nothing, Stefan wraps his arms around himself, shivering. There’s no chill in the air, but his bones are numb. The slow drone of city ambience is finally enough to drown out the sound of his father calling after him, and he breathes a sigh. The sound of their combined footfalls on the sidewalk is oddly comforting.

“How’s Bandersnatch going?” Colin says after a pause.

“N-” He hates himself. “Not good. I’m just…lost."

It feels like he’s in a maze he can’t get out of, a labyrinth of steel and computer code. Like he isn’t in control of anything. He isn’t even sure why he decided to flag Colin down and follow him out of the blue. Does he have _any_ agency in his life anymore?

Perhaps it’s the way the developer seems to know so much more than he lets on. The soothing curls of smoke that drift out of his mouth when he talks. The way he looks at Stefan like he’s little more than an interesting thing, with the potential to become so. Much. More.

Maybe that's why.  

“You’re in the hole,” Colin says, glancing over at him. They turn a corner.

Stefan doesn’t think he’s heard correctly. “In the what?”

“In a fight with your own mind.” His gaze is probing and thoughtful. “You got anywhere else to be later?”

 _Follow me. Come home with me._ The question hangs in the air.

So Stefan does. What other choice does he have.  

 

~~

 

He doesn’t know when they get there, but they’re there, and he’s standing behind Colin and watching him fumble with the keys for an eternity and a half before he finally lets them in.

The apartment is a mishmash of colors that shouldn’t possibly fit together but somehow do, in a manner befitting of its owner. An orange haired raggedy ann in Day-Glo makeup stands in the doorway, pajama pants snug over glittering tights. She looks bored, the _snap-snap_ of her bubblegum chewing audible from the other side of the room.

“That’s Kitty,” Colin murmurs. She grunts out a hello. _Your wife?_ Stefan wants to ask, but says nothing. The implications fill his head and make it spin, around and around and around.

She holds a wriggling bundle in her arms. Colin takes it from her slowly, expression almost reverent.

“And this is Pearl,” he says without looking up. “Daddy’s little legacy.”

The baby gurgles happily, and a ghost of a smile crosses Colin’s lips before he is all businesslike and forward again, striding toward Stefan with purpose after handing the child back to its mother. He almost forgets to look away.

“Stefan’s in the hole, Kit.” Colin’s eyes are viper-like.

“Poor thing,” Kitty tuts mockingly from her perch in the corner, “Are you going to get him out of it?”  

Colin hums low in his throat before motioning Stefan to follow.

 

~~~

 

He trails Colin nervously. Dimmed lights in the study greet him and soothe his burning, tired eyes. The older boy’s silhouette lingers in front of him for a few moments before wandering off. He sits on the plush couch. 

“Tea?” Colin asks, already seeming to know the answer.

Stefan watches him weave around the furniture, hands bunched into the scratchy fabric of his jumper. He wants to laugh at how domestic this encounter is. It’s the closest to normal he’s felt in a long time.

White noise filters in through the room, then fades into something nice, a quiet, electronic beat. Had Colin put this album on his list? He can’t remember. Doesn’t recognize the song either, but it helps to calm him down a little.

A steaming cup of tea is set down on the table in front of him. He hadn’t noticed. Colin’s voice shocks him out of his reverie.

“Here.”

The pipe of a roll-up is thrust into his face, the glowing tip challenging him. Thin streams of smoke curl up and away, tickling his nose and eyelashes.

“I-I shouldn’t,” he stammers, staring into that bright, golden flash of ember. “I’ve never -”

Colin puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Come on.”

It’s almost as if he’s being tested. Colin’s eyes are guarded, the slim curves of his mouth pointed down in a frown. His glasses glint deceptively.

 _I shouldn’t,_ he thinks.

He takes the hit anyway. Ends up making a fool of himself, coughing it up more than blowing it out, but when he looks up through blurred vision and the burn in his throat, Colin’s eyebrows are quirked in real interest this time.

“You’ll get the hang of that,” he says, satisfaction evident in his voice. (He makes it sound like there will be a next time.) It soothes Stefan’s wounded pride, somehow.

He watches, biting his lip, as Colin sticks two fingers into a shallow dish. Something comes away from the bottom of it on his fingertips.

Colin holds his hand up to reveal two tiny white squares. “One for you...and one for me.”

A sinuous pink tongue slithers out from between wet, reddened lips. Colin smirks deviously. He places the tab on the square middle of it, flicks it back in. The hand is kept proffered.

“What is it?”

Colin’s gaze becomes suddenly serious, that strange juxtaposition of stern and playful flickering across his face. “It lets you see the bigger picture.”

Does he really want to do that, though? Hasn’t he had enough of all this shit he’s been put through. He has.

“I-I don’t know.”

Colin stands up with a grace that keeps Stefan anchored to his seat. He steps closer, then kneels down to meet him, eyes level. A hand comes up to cup the side of his face gently. His expression is almost warm.

“It’ll help you understand.” Doesn’t he know that Stefan so desperately _wants_ to understand? That he just wants to be normal? But he can’t, he can’t do any of those things, because…

Stefan has to remind himself that he has a choice. He’s so close to agreeing, to giving in. Colin’s hypnotic gaze draws him in, keeps him enamored. He can’t look away.

“I…” He forgets what he’s saying no to. “I really shouldn’t, but t-thanks.”

The older boy acts like he hasn’t heard. “It’s your choice.

"Totally up to you. Don’t feel pressured.”

A long, pregnant pause hangs in the air between them. Stefan blinks. When did Colin get so close? He’s so close...close enough for their noses to touch, hot breath warming his face. This is wrong.

He realizes it just as he sees the thinly veiled desperation in Colin’s eyes, as he becomes aware of the alien feeling of his arms acting on their own as they slowly wrap around Colin’s neck, playing with the short hairs at its base. It’s enough to shock him into realization.

Stefan’s eyes widen.

“We’re not in control,” he breathes, before Colin cuts him off with an open mouthed kiss. Something thin and papery passes through his mouth onto his tongue.

 _There’s people watching us,_ he wants to say, even as he fights the urge to vomit in horror of what Colin has just done to him. _People who want this to happen._ But he doesn’t. And Colin understands anyway.

“We never were,” he says, glasses flashing, “It’s all immaterial, what we chose to do.

So let’s give them what they want, then,” he murmurs. His pupils are blown wide, almost entirely black. Stefan can only stare at him in bemused fear. “Let’s put on a show.”

“What have you done?”

Colin smiles, a wicked, Cheshire Cat grin. “I chose for you. You’re okay with that, right?”

He wants to say he isn't. Wants to get away, far far away from Colin and this place and everything he’s ever known. He shouldn’t have run away from Dad or his responsibilities, shouldn't have bitten off more than he could chew. But here he is.

Fuck the universe.

Stefan swallows.

He pushes back against Colin roughly, groaning feebly in the back of his throat. His mouth, inexperienced and clumsy, tries to kiss wherever he can find until the other boy catches it with his own. Time slows down, and seems to fast forward all at once.

He can’t tell if he wants this or not anymore, can’t tell the difference between what he wants and what _they_ want. All he can do now is grip onto Colin for dear life as he gets manhandled and kissed rough enough to hurt (and he wants it that way). Colin drags him up onto his lap; he goes easily. Stefan’s hands bunch up into his shirt collar and hold him there as Colin drags his teeth over Stefan’s bottom lip, biting and nipping like an animal in heat.

Neither of them are in control; maybe they never were. And with mounting revulsion (not at Colin, _never_ at Colin), he finds himself succumbing further and further each time he feels Colin’s lips on his and the hands rubbing soothing circles into the small of his back.

He pulls back suddenly, turning away when Colin tries to chase his lips. “T-this isn’t right.”

“Why?” Colin asks sharply. “Is it ‘cause we’re both men?”

There’s nothing to say to that, and although Stefan hadn’t really thought about it, he does feel inclined to agree. But that might make Colin more upset with him, and _he doesn’t want that_. His Adam's apple bobs roughly as he swallows.

“Y-” He’s breathless. A thin string of saliva connects their mouths. He licks his lips and watches the thread break. “You have a wife.”  
  
“Not my wife.” Colin shrugs. “She won’t mind.”

“But I -” His mind is curiously blank. The colors on the wall start to melt away in front of him. “Why did you - “

“You needed to see the bigger picture,” Colin says nonchalantly. “I’ve given you the knowledge.”

_I’ve set you free._

And then he’s kissing Stefan again, all teeth and lips and savage desire as the walls around them pop and fade away and explode in a violent, beautiful supernova.

 

~~

 

He has fever dreams of electronic pitch, of Colin cutting him up. Of him letting Colin tie him up and cut deeply into him. He dreams of a fractured timeline, each facet of it leading to a different outcome. In some endings, Jerome F. Davies catches him bending over a locked safe and dismembers him, except all that comes out instead of blood is wispy cigarette smoke; others have him kissing Colin, fucking Colin as his father’s corpse looms over them, judging silently with dead eyes.

And then, he dreams of killing Colin, of Colin telling him to do it, with that same impassive expression he always wears as he grips Stefan’s quaking hands with his own.

_See you in the next life, yeah?_

The world bends and distorts when he tries to influence it, but it rejects his touch. He finds himself in a locked room, tears streaming down his face. As he sinks to his knees, clutching at his head in agony, he feels the eyes of untold millions on him.

With the forked glyph burning in his mind and on his tongue, Stefan wakes up.

 

~~

 

  
He doesn’t realize he’s in Colin’s bed until he feels the thin, vaguely muscled arm snake around his bare torso in a protective embrace, and the warmth of another body pressed flush against his back.

“What?” He squeaks, startled, but Colin shushes him gently, pulling him closer. Memories of what they had done together the night before come back to him in fractals. He tries to ignore the stinging pain in his backside. The arm curls over him even tighter and Stefan flinches.

“What are you so afraid of?

You were the one that came onto me, remember?” He whispers, nosing at Stefan’s ear. “After I helped you understand.”

 _That can’t be right,_ Stefan thinks, but keeps this to himself. Something akin to regret reaches out to him with spidery fingers, but he pushes the feeling away.

“How do you feel now? After what we did?” Colin asks softly.

This is wrong.

“I got to go,” Stefan says with a newfound desperation, trying to shrug the covers off. “I have a-a deadline.” The excuse sounds pathetic, even to his ears.

Colin frowns, but doesn’t let him go. “Are you sure?”

He’s not.

“I need help,” he says quietly, after a long pause. The mild smell of joint smoke and soap wafts into his nose, and he relaxes into Colin's touch. Paintings of abstract color and composition adorn the walls, and soft music reverberates through the air. Had the record player been running all night?

He wonders if Dad is looking for him.

Colin says nothing, lets him think, tracing glyph patterns into his stomach. The sensation tickles and makes him squirm.

“Where’s Kitty?” He’d nearly forgotten about Colin’s not-wife, and daughter. There is no sound or movement to indicate they are around. “And Pearl?”

What if Kitty were to walk in right now, to see them sprawled about on her bed after committing such a grievous act of infidelity? What would she say? Would she kick him out, tell Colin to never speak to him again? Would Colin send _her_ away, have Stefan raise their daughter in her stead?

Colin turns him around to face him. “Don’t worry about them.” He pulls closer. Stefan jerks away, but Colin's arms hold him in place. He can’t escape.

In spite of how fucked up the situation is, he feels pleasantly warm. Unconsciously, he inches closer and sighs. Colin’s expression borders on lust and something else. He seems to see right through Stefan’s facade.

“Do you want to try again?”  Colin murmurs close by his ear, cradling his head between the curve where his shoulder meets neck. Something about the way he says it makes Stefan pull away and sputter.

“H-how do you mean?” He asks.

Colin continues to stare, unblinking. “You can go back, y’know. Make another choice. If you’re not satisfied with this one.”

It sounds ludicrous, but Stefan knows he's being serious. They’ve almost certainly done this dance before.

He isn’t so sure he wants to relive it again.

“What difference would that make?” Stefan replies weakly, trying to lace his fingers with Colin’s. “I’m not in control, anyway.” _I'm not even sure I want to be, anymore._ Because it’s different now, he’s not being controlled against his will, he’s giving it up on his own.

He’s going to give it all up to Colin, and he does. 

“Good choice,” Colin says, fondly stroking Stefan’s hair, and he leans into the touch. Everything else can wait.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to hit that kudos button if you liked :)


End file.
